What Happens After
by writebynight
Summary: What happens after Luke dies! The Last Olympian spoilers! Rated this because I'm paranoid.
1. I

Hey, guys! So a while back I thought it would be cool to tell you what happened to Luke after he died. This sat and sat in my mental attic, but finally I wrote it. Sorry, it's probably crap, but read and review please!

Chapter 1

I turned and fell. I begged him. "Please, Percy..."

He rose, and I was sure he was going to try to kill me. I licked my lips, aiding my ability to speak. "You can't . . . can't do it yourself. He'll break my control. He'll defend himself. Only my hand. I can... can keep him controlled."

Kronos was fighting, trying with all his will to regain power of my words and my actions. They could see it too. I looked at my hands to see that I was smoking and glowing a faint bronze. There was little time left for me to do what I needed to do.

"Please," I moaned. "No time."

Percy looked from me to Grover and Annabeth and back to me. He understood. He handed me the knife.

Grover yelped. "Percy? Are you...um..." The satyr doubted my motives. I was ashamed to admit that I didn't blame him, I had deceived each of them before. I just hoped what I was about to sacrifice made up for it.

I grasped the hilt of Annabeth's blade. I recalled that day eight years before when I had given it to her. It gave me strength.

I unlatched the side of my armor, revealing a small, white patch of skin under my left arm. It oozed weakness. I thought of everything good in this life. I knew that doing this would make things right. But I was scared. Then I saw Annabeth's face. Her eyes were lined with tears waiting to be poured out. She was terrified that I would become the new Luke again, the one that tried to kill her so many times since I started to doubt Hermes and the other gods' caring for the half-bloods. I had to do this. "For Annabeth," I thought as I plunged the knife down onto my mortal anchor.

It hurt like you wouldn't believe. All pain that could come to me physically was concentrated on this one spot. It was as harmful as plunging a sword into your own heart. Percy, Annabeth and Grover looked away as my vulnerability consumed my body. It tore at my flesh like a hungry wolf finding food for the first time in months. I couldn't breathe. The gash on my Achilles spot slowly grew bigger and bigger until it reached down to my waist on my left side. I was dying. But the power surging inside of me, that was gone too. Kronos would not return.

"Good...blade," It burned like I had my own personal wildfire in my throat when I spoke.

Percy came and knelt next to me, his face white with worry. I found it ironic that he was worried about the man who led Kronos's army, but I also found it strangely comforting. Annabeth and Grover followed. They both had tears lingering at the corners of their eyes, threatening to spill over any minute.

I had to tell Annabeth. I looked deep into those startlingly grey eyes and gathered my energy.

"You knew. I almost killed you, but you knew . . ."

"Shhh." Her voice wavered and I thought she was going to cry, but the strong girl held it together. "You were a hero at the end, Luke. You'll go to Elysium."

I shook my head weakly. "Think . . . rebirth. Try for three times. Isles of the Blest."

Annabeth sniffled. "You always pushed yourself too hard."

I held up my hand, willing her to hold it. She gingerly pressed her fingertips to mine.

"Did you..." I coughed, pushing myself to ask. You're going to die, I told myself. Do you want to find out the truth or not?

"Did you love me?"

Annabeth wiped her tears away. "There was a time I thought... well, I thought..."

She looked at Percy, and in that moment I could see she loved him. The look on Percy's face echoed hers.

"You were like a brother to me, Luke," she said softly. "But I didn't love you."

I just nodded weakly, wincing at the movement of my broken and dying body.

"We can get ambrosia," Grover said. "We can—" "Grover," I gulped, feeling that my time left was short. "You're the bravest satyr I ever knew. But no. There's no healing..." Another cough.

I turned my attention to Percy. He had been oddly silent this entire time, quite unusual for him. I gripped his arm as firmly as I could. He probably barely felt it. "Ethan. Me. All the unclaimed. Don't let it.. don't let it happen again." Breathing was almost impossible now. I couldn't manage any more words, so I pleaded with my eyes.

"I won't," He said, his voice cracking. "I promise." I nodded, and then everything slowly faded away. I was floating up, up, up, and darkness was pestering to envelope me. I relented, and let it come.


	2. II

Bad, right? I will love, love, love, you forever if I get some reviews, 'kay? Thanks! Here's the next chapter, sorry it took so long to upload. I was off access to a computer for EVER. But yeah. Enjoy!

Chapter 2

I woke up in a hotel. The walls were steel gray, with dull carpet to match. Black leather furniture was set up like a living room, and people were crowded in them. Muzak was playing. A single elevator stood in the corner. No one spoke.

"Next," the man working the front desk called. He was tall and elegant looking, with chocolate skin and bleached-blond hair shaved in a military cut. Wearing an italian suit and tortoiseshell shades, he didn't look like the kind of man you would want to mess with.

I realized he was talking to me when he bent his sunglasses down off the bridge of his nose so I could see his eyes. They were empty, full of death and despair. Just looking at them made me feel like everything was hopeless. He put the sunglasses back up. "Look, sir, I got a tight schedule to run. Are you coming or not?" Even agitated, the man sounded sullen.

"Yes, sir. Sorry," I apologized.

"Name?" His questions sounded like statements.

Luke Castellan, I told him. The man skimmed over his papers and I realized with a start that talking and walking didn't hurt anymore. I was dead. But before I had time to let that sink in, the man spoke again.

"Ah, Luke Castellan, yes… would you like to take EZ Death straight to the Fields of Ashphodel, or have a trial to see whether you shall go to Elysium or the Fields of Punishment?"

I pondered this question. I could stand forever in the Fields, never having happiness, but never pain either, or I could have a trial held by Hades, Persephone and his council to decide whether my act of goodness at the end was enough to make up for the bad.

"You're lucky," the man said. "Most people don't get that choice."

I decided that I would be fair. I would take my punishment if I deserved it. "I'd like to have a trial held."

"Very well," the man said. "I am taking a ferry now, please deposit three drachma on the counter and then enter the elevator."

I saw that the elevator had opened, and that some of the people that had been sitting on the couches and chairs had piled into the small box. I placed three drachmas on the counter from my pocket, which I found had exactly the right amount in it, and climbed in, squished up against the wall. The man climbed down from his podium and got into the elevator, and I realized that it was Charon, ferryman for the river Styx. He pushed a button and the elevator doors closed. We plunged down for seemingly an endless amount of stories, although it probably only took about a minute, and then suddenly halted. I looked down to see that I, along with everyone else, had been robed in black. Charon looked like the Greeks described him as looking. We exited the elevator and boarded a ferry that he paddled across the Styx. Looking down into the river, I saw lost and forgotten dreams floating in the inky water. A college diploma, a baby rattle, an A+ paper. I had forgotten how much people wanted to achieve but never accomplished since I bathed in the river of death a year ago. Just as we were about to get off the boat, I saw something drifting that made me stop.

Ooh, a cliffy! Haha, I'm so bad! R&R!


	3. III

Chapter 3

It was a photograph of me and my father, smiling and laughing. I pulled the photo out of the water with two fingers and flipped it over. On the back, it said six words that almost made me faint: Property of Hermes, Msgr. of Gods. My dad cared about me. I instantly felt even more regret for everything that I had done to the demigods of Camp Half-Blood, to the gods, to mortals. I did it all because I believed the gods didn't care about their half-mortal children. But I was wrong. If I had just listened to my father eight years ago-

"Are you coming or not?" Charon's deep voice jarred me from my deep thought. I realized everyone else had gotten off the ferryboat and joined one of three lines, lighting up green like Vegas casino signs. EZ Death, said one, and the others were labeled Attendant On Duty.

I blushed- can the dead blush? Well if they can, I certainly did. Stuffing the crumpled photo into a pocket tucked convienently into the inner folds of my robe, I got off the dank boat and stepped up to the Attendant On Duty line to the far right, which was crawling along. When I finally reached the attendant, the ghoul stared through me for a moment before droning in an accent that sounded quite medeival,

"Thy name...?"

"Luke Castellan."

"Mmn." the ancient spirit wrote something on a slip of parchment, and handed it to me.

"Thou shall attend the judgement pavilion at exactly four hours."

"Four hours?" I asked, obviously bothering the attendant by my ignorance.

It sighed and pushed a Stygian iron button. Hades' voice was projected into the near area."Time is not the same as it was in your life. In this place, you recognize time by hours. There are twelve hours in one bell. Should you be sent to the Fields of Punishment to do work, your time shall stop and start each bell, at which point one half loaf of stale bread and a container of curdled milk will be issued. If you go to the Fields for a specified punishment, no food or drink will be given unless part of the punishment, and time will not be concerning to you. There is a chime each hour."

The attendant spoke again.

"It is three hours and some time. Get on."

I was pushed past Cerberus, who was much less frightening once you were dead, and waited in a benched area outside the pavilion. After a bit, a chime rang across the roaming lands of the Underworld. Four hours. I stood and rose the steps to the pavilion, a jittering feeling in my gut.


	4. IV

**AN: **Because writing agonizingly short chapters is fun.

Inside the stately judging tent, three figures with gilded masks sat. I opened my mouth to speak, but the first figure held up a bony hand. I felt the judges literally pulling my essence from me, deciding my fate.

Finally, the first judge spoke. "He has betrayed us all. Fields of Punishment." Thumbs down. I swallowed nervously. The second judge glanced at the first before speaking.

"He took his life to fulfill the prophecy. He got what he wanted, a noble cause. The lives he took all achieved Elysium, I see no reason he should not as well." Thumbs up, thank Zeus.

The third judge spoke quieter than the others. I began to assure my fate. Such a namby-pamby couldn't assign me to the Fields of Punishment!

"Luke Castellan. You have done many bad things in your life. But you righted it in the end. I feel that there is no place in eternal damnation for you."

I breathed out. I wouldn't be punished! I could go to Elysium. I could apologize to everyone who died because of me!

"But," But? What? "I feel that after you've done all that, Elysium isn't in reach. Fields of Asphodel."

His thumb cocked halfway down, and half up. I couldn't believe my undead ears. Asphodel?

"My good men," The third judge spoke. "I believe an understanding has been come to?"

Begrudgingly, the other two judges positioned their fists like the last.

"Asphodel!"

**AN: **Like you didn't see this coming! You _all_ saw this coming!


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